What I Know
by foxredwinter
Summary: She's the brightest witch of her age. She knows things. But there are something that she still needs to learn. And the most unexpected person is the one who really does know it all. HGRW


_Disclaimer: I've got the plot. Rowling's got the rest._

* * *

One of my heroes, who died a heroes death called me the brightest witch of my age. I know things. I read things. I am the one people wanted to copy notes from in school. If the answer could be found in a book, I knew it. I know who I am. I know what I want. I know what I need.

Or so I thought.

But there are some things that aren't explained in a book. There are some things you can't learn in a classroom. There are some things that you have to learn by doing, or not doing. By falling and having someone pick you up, even if you know you can take care of yourself. Especially then.

We were several years out of Hogwarts, enjoying the peace and economic boom following the end of the second Wizarding War. The fall of Voldemort meant life could go on and so did we. Our friendship had to change. It seemed that our childhood friendship was founded on finding our way through hardship together. Whether it was a troll in the lavatory or the Dark Lord in a Chamber of Secrets or the Battle for Light, we fought together and this created and strengthened our ties.

It took us a while to figure out how to be friends when there was no longer need to defend each other. But we managed. We found out what we wanted in life. Harry went on to play Quidditch. Ron, not quite good enough to play himself, was hired as a manager of sorts for the Cannons. Ron and Harry got to see each other just about every day on the Quidditch pitch. I decided to continue my studies to become a Healer. All those years of healing the boys when they were injured gave me a taste for it. Plus I like to learn, books are a comfort.

For a while things went well. I saw the boys on my days off from my internship at St. Mungo's. They stopped by to take me to lunch to make sure I fed myself. It was the three of us, just a bit more grown up. We were finally doing what we wanted to do but couldn't before because of Voldemort and our fate as the Golden Trio of Gryffindor.

I was busy but quite content. I had a flat in Muggle London. I was more comfortable there and it allowed me to escape from work more completely than if I lived in Magical London. There was always Crookshanks to welcome me home. On days off I would cook, run errands, read, watch movies, and see the boys. Usually, they would apparate into my entryway knowing it was my day off and I would be cooking. Harry was always hungry due to the grueling training and Ron, well, he was just always hungry. Ginny and I stayed in touch. While I was friendly with other women my age and had a few female acquaintances, she was my only true female friend. Quite often it would be the four of us sprawled on my furniture, relaxing, the boys eating, Ginny and I talking. So it continued for, oh, probably two or three years. We were living and enjoying that life.

Then I began my bout with bad luck. I'm not superstitious, that is just foolish. I know bad luck doesn't exist, but it sure felt like it. First I was hit by some fancy car while I was driving my parents' beat up old car to see my Grandmother in Brighton. Then there was the stalker as Ginny began calling him. He didn't really stalk me, he was just an incredibly persistent man, only a year younger than my father, who asked me out four or five times before he got the hint. Then I managed to drop a couple of vials of potion as I fell one day at work. I sprained my ankle and the potions reacted with each other and in a freak accident prevented the sprain being healed by magic. I had to walk around with crutches for two weeks and the most obnoxious brace for another month.

After two such grueling months, I was not in the best of moods most of the time. I hadn't seen the boys really at all, only the occasional talk through the Floo. Ginny was off on assignment; she had become a free lance writer and often traveled for various papers or magazines. Just when I thought things were going to get back to normal, I found out my rent was going up. Great. Wonderful. I knew I could handle it.

After ten weeks of this chaos, I was in the midst of a long, twelve hour shift at work. First there was the patient who refused to let me attend to him because I was a girl.

"No, I will not have some female who is playing nurse take care of me! There is no possible way you could have any clue how complicated healing is!" he hollered at the top of his lungs. Finally one of the male nurses came over, quieted him and then got a male healer to help him. Honestly! After that spectacular first hour of work I mistakenly thought it couldn't get any worse.

Hour two brought in the most cantankerous old woman who actually bit me. Hour three was the incident in the storage cupboard. All that happened was I tripped. Unfortunately, I reached for the shelf of supplies, all breakable glass or metal instruments and it toppled down on me. Hour four was the six year old who found a few remnants of that accident that were still stuck in my hair. "Look Mommy! That lady with the funny teeth has some metal thingy in her hair!" With that, everyone in the ward turned and stared at me. Hour five brought a break where I proceeded to dribble tomato soup down the entire length of my shirt and trousers. A rush in the emergency ward kept me from charming away the mess and I proceeded to forget about it until in hour six a very attractive fellow intern, who I must admit having had a bit of a crush on until this moment, said, "You seem to have a bit of something on your shirt. You might want to do something about it. You're scaring the kids who think its blood."

Half done with only more torture yet to come. Hour seven was fairly quiet, but I managed to walk into the nurses' station and stub my toe. In hour eight I managed to accidentally insult those same nurses resulting in their ignoring my presence for the rest of the shift, making my duties infinitely more complicated. Hour nine I was scolded by my supervisor for how long my evening rounds were taking, no thanks to those nurses ignoring my requests for help at various points. Hour ten was spent being told by a kind intentioned middle aged woman she knew at least five young gentlemen whom would be just perfect for me. Hour eleven was spent in the joys of paper work and since my quills kept breaking it took three times as long as normal. Hour twelve was spent watching the clock, trying to keep my patience about me, and my tears at bay.

I launched out the ward and into the alleyway so I could apparate into my flat the moment my shift ended. Upon appearing in the entryway, I dropped my bag on the floor and went to change out of my clothes into my pajamas. I proceeded to elegantly flop on the sofa. It was at this point I realized how long I was gone and that Crookshanks was displeased with the lack of attention he had been receiving. After eight solid days of twelve hour shifts, he was seriously put out. He took his frustrations out by shredding my favorite overstuffed chair's cushions into shreds.

Seeing that, it put me over the edge. I know I could magic it back. I know it was just a day. But I had to cry and so cry I did. I sat on the sofa, in my oldest shirt and stretched out cotton pajama bottoms with tears streaming uninhibited.

I realized I didn't really know why I was crying. I've had bad days before. I had problematic patients. People would not always remember my role in the Golden Trio and some would assume I was some ignorant girl who was only really working until she could marry well. I have had moments where my coordination lapsed. I have embarrassed myself in public before. Usually the boys would be there to laugh at me a bit first and then help me to laugh at myself. That's when I realized it.

I knew I was alone.

So here I am two hours later, staring into the cold hearth. I had to look long and hard for an affordable muggle flat with a hearth in it. Suddenly all I knew didn't seem so important. Yes, I had friends, but they had their lives and their families to worry about. Even Harry was finding himself a family though he was yet to admit it. I could tell he and Ginny were becoming closer and it was only a matter of time before they were married. Ron was much like Ginny, traveling for the Cannons and becoming a bit famous in his own right. He didn't have time for me.

I didn't like the idea of my friends moving on with their lives and leaving me behind. I didn't like that Harry and Ginny were going to have each other and I would have no one. I didn't like that Ron wasn't going to have time for me.

Why was that last bit bothering me? After all, we spent more time arguing than anything else. We argued about the best kind of marmalade to put on toast. We argued about the fact his socks never matched. We argued about the fact he always sat on a book when he came over. We argued about everything and nothing. Why did we argue? I don't know.

I don't know why we argue. I don't know why I was jealous of Harry and Ginny. I don't know why I want Ron to have time for me. I don't know anything any more.

With that another round of tears begin. After a twelve hour work day and two hours of brooding on the sofa the tears turn to exhausted sobs.

Suddenly I hea the floorboards creak behind me. I assume it is Crookshanks, he is a bit overweight. "Go away, Crookshanks, I'm not any good company right now."

"Of all the creatures to mistake me for you have to call me Crookshanks?" a voice comes from someone who I thought was a cat. Lucky for the voice I recognized it before I could hex it.

"Oh, Ron! I thought you were in France or some such place this week. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I just got back for the first time in several weeks and I thought to myself, 'I could go home to the Burrow, home to the mess Harry and I call a flat, or I could pop by Hermione's to see how she is doing.' I chose to come here and catch up with you."

"Oh."

"Seems I may have come just in time to prevent you from drowning yourself and that bloody cat with all those tears."

"Honestly Ron, language."

"So, what's wrong, Mione?"

"Just a bad day at work, nothing else," I quickly lied. I know Ron is always clueless, especially about females and their emotions. I know I'm safe from having to explain my uncharacteristic tears.

"Right and I am a Slytherin. What is really going on? I've seen you after bad days. Usually it's a pint of butterbeer, a chocolate bar, or some of my mom's biscuits and you're all right again. This is not just a bad day at work."

Bloody hell. I really don't know anything. And now I'm talking to myself in language that Ron would use.

"Umm, Mione, you do know you just said that out loud."

I know nothing and now I don't even know how to properly operate my own jaw. It swung down on its own accord and I could not figure out how to properly form words. But I do still know how to cry. I flopped back down on the sofa and began to sob all over again.

I know Ron hates to see girls cry. I know he doesn't know how to handle it. I also know I don't really care if he is uncomfortable. I know right now I just need to cry. Yet again, apparently I don't really know anything of any use.

Only a brief moment after the tears began, I found myself in a very warm, long set of arms being held in a very tight hug. Circles were being rubbed in my back and soft words of comfort were being spoken in my ears. "Let it out, you need to stop being such a know-it-all all the time, Mione. You need to know when to ask for help from people. From people who care about you. I know you can take care of yourself, but you need to know that you don't need to."

When in the name of Merlin's beard did Ron become so wise? I might be bright, I might know quite a bit, but here was true wisdom coming from the same man who was most often called dense in school by girls.

"But I really don't know if that is true, Ron. In case you haven't noticed, Harry and Ginny are well on their way to finally figuring out they are meant to be together. You are off parading around the world and being noticed by everyone. You three are all I have and you are all going to find your own lives and leave me alone. I know it."

"Don't be daft. You're stuck with Harry forever, I hate to say it. He's always saying how you are the sister he never had. Ginny feels the same way. I think I should take offense that she needs to have yet another sibling, but I guess it's a girl thing."

I could feel Ron shift a bit. I thought he was just a bit uncomfortable holding me as I cried. I was wrong again.

"Hermione," he continued, "I hope that you know you're stuck with me too."

"I guess," I mumbled between tears.

"And you know I don't think of you like a sister right?

"Huh?" apparently I no longer know how to form a sentence.

"Umm, well…I guess I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this and whether I should tell you this, but I guess I've sort of put my foot in it now." He pulled a hand from around me and ran it through his hair in frustration or for courage. "Well, you see, Mione, the thing is…the thing is I want you to know something I don't think you know. The thing is, I think I'm in love with you."

"Bloody hell."

"Language, Mione," he smirked. "Though I wasn't quite expecting that reaction."

I sat in stunned silence for a few minutes staring open mouthed and wide eyed at him.

"You still alive?" he asked.

"Umm…well…I guess…" I stuttered.

"Again, not quite what I was looking for Hermione, try again."

"I know you're not being serious, Ron."

"Hermione, you've known me longer and better than anyone I'm not related to. Stop being a prat and see what everyone else already knows."

"And what, pray tell is that, Ron?" covering my insecurities with my know-it-all tone.

"That I love you and I know you love me."

"What?" I gasped.

"You really need to pay more attention. Hermione, there has been a running bet since our second year as to when we would come to our senses and snog each other senseless all over again. I think Fred and George started it, but it spread to the whole school. Harry is a prat each time I suggest coming over here. Ginny and my mom get that superior grin each time your name is brought up at the Burrow and then they turn to look at me."

"I thought they were all daft, but then I realized a while ago they were all right. I do love you. I just needed to figure out how you felt. Then everyone started pointing things out to me. Harry noticed how you always sit next to me on the sofa and how you always have some of my favorite sweets around. Ginny told me how often you ask her about me when I'm traveling. Mom even pointed out how you look at me when you think no one is looking at you. I may be dense, but you have to admit that all those people can't be wrong."

I sat, silent, in awe of the man who seemed to resemble my best friend but who suddenly seemed a man. Suddenly I saw him as others did, not as the boy with a smudge on his nose on a train, but as a strong, intelligent, funny man. I saw a man who cared about me, deeply. I saw a man in whom I could trust, unconditionally. I saw am man in whose eyes I was reflected.

"Hermione..." he whispered.

I suddenly realized what I know. I may not know anything else, but I know I love Ronald Weasley.

"They aren't wrong, Ron," I whispered. "I just didn't know it yet. But I know now. I love you."

His face released the tension it carried while he had waited for my answer. A huge grin, worthy of that impish git on the train, exploded across his face. He pulled me tighter into his arms and jumped up, still holding me. He swung me around and around.

"Ron, stop," I laughed. "You're going to make me dizzy and then I'll get sick and ruin the moment."

He just put me down, "I was going to snog you senseless but I think you managed to just ruin the moment yourself!"

"Honestly!" Deciding to create my own moment, I pushed myself up on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck and proceeded to thoroughly and completely kiss him. Realizing it was a bit of stretch for me to reach all the way up, he was kind enough to wrap his arms back around me and lift me closer to his face. Made snogging him much easier.

After a few minutes we came up for air. "Bloody hell," we both whispered. Then we both laughed.

"Harry will never believe that you swore, Hermione."

So now I know I love Ron and Ron loves me. I know now that I am not alone. I know I have what I want and what I need in life. I know what it means to live.


End file.
